


Redemption Is A Ten Letter Word

by Cobalt_Blue99



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: I don't have money for comics, I'll tag as I go, It's JASON, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd-centric, Not Canon Compliant, t for language, what do you expect?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27062641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobalt_Blue99/pseuds/Cobalt_Blue99
Summary: Jason Todd didn’t want redemption: he wanted a family. After realizing that the rest of the Bats could never give him what he wanted, he left.Or a series of stories about how one maybe insane and slightly murderous outcast made a family of definitely insane and/or very murderous outcasts.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Jack Wheeler
Comments: 36
Kudos: 232





	1. Get The Hell Out of Dodge

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, here’s the deal. My plan for this is less one giant story with a single plot, but more individual story arcs with their own independent plots. Stories will (probably) build on each other a bit, but I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. I want each arc to consist of a few longer chapters, none of that barely over 1000 word bullshit I do for my other stories. I’m shooting for at least 3000+ words apiece. Thus, updates are likely going to take a bit longer, so I apologize in advance for that. Also, since I don’t even know where this’ll be going, updates will mostly be when I have a flash of inspiration. Tags will be updated gradually as I add more characters. 
> 
> Alright, enough monologuing. Let’s do this thing.

Jason Todd didn’t hate Batman. Naw. In fact, Jason respected, dare he say even admired, Batman. What he hated was Batman’s morals, or rather him forcing his morals on everyone else.

For example, Batman never killed. Okay, fine. Everyone in their line of work needs a clear line in the sand, something that they refused to cross no matter the circumstances. Without it, it would be so easy to go from loved defender of the people to feared overlord. Hell, there were other dimensions where just such a thing had happened. No. Boundaries and morals were not what Jason had a problem with. It was when Batman decided that his morals applied to everyone else that he took issue.

Last week, Jason shot a criminal in the head. The guy had a little girl at gunpoint and was more than willing to blow her brains out. So Jason shot first. No big loss, right? The life of one scumbag versus that of an innocent child. In Jason’s mind, it shouldn’t even be a competition. Then Batman descended from the sky like the goddamn reaper and beat Jason’s ass all the while telling him how he thought Jason had been doing better and he should’ve found another way and blah, blah, blah.

After a good ten minutes of fighting, Jason managed to give Batman the slip and slink off to lick his wounds. Of course, Golden Boy showed up at his safehouse not long after to give him another fucking lecture about becoming the evil they fought or something like that. Jason didn’t know exactly what the sermon was about since he had tuned Dick out after, “Jason, we need to talk.”

Jason still got the gist of it though: killing bad. Never mind the fact that judges sentence people to death or that police sometimes kill to protect others. Oh, wait. Jason forgot that superheroes had basically made police obsolete. His bad.

Nowadays every major city on the planet had some meta or alien (or furry) claiming to be the face of justice. Cops were basically just there to sit in their patrol cars eating donuts. Or at least people would like to believe. ‘Cause the alternative was actually kind of depressing. Jason however knew that the most depressing answer was usually the correct one. Those on the Gotham police force tended to not live very long, especially if they were clean. The good die young, or so he’d been told.

From his experience though, the bad guys were just as likely to end up with a bullet in the brain as a good guy.

Jason inhaled a lungful of nicotine before exhaling a wisp of smoke slowly. At least with how things seemed to be going for heroes lately, he wouldn’t have to worry about dying of lung cancer.

Fuck he missed Roy.

Hanging out with the Outlaws had been the best time of Jason’s life. He hadn’t known it then but having someone you trust wholly to have your back makes a huge difference. Sure, Jason now had the Bats (sometimes), but he usually ran solo. He just didn’t trust them like he had Roy and Kori.

With the Bats, Jason was always one mistake away from Arkham, and they made sure he knew it.

Honestly, after the stunt last week, Jason was sure he would end up behind bars. It was a fucking miracle that someone (read: Alfred) had managed to talk Bruce down. It wasn’t like Jason didn’t have a reason, it was just that Bruce didn’t want to accept it. In the heat of the moment, Jason honestly saw no alternative. Try as he might, he wasn’t as good at magicking solutions out of his ass as the other Bats were.

Speaking of Bats…

“Oracle to Red Hood, do you copy Red Hood?”

Jason tapped the comm. “This is Red Hood, I copy. What’s up, Oracle?”

“Robin’s got himself into trouble with some of Penguin’s men,” Barbara’s said. She sounded exasperated, not that Jason blamed her. Dealing with the little shit’s shit was pretty exhausting. “We need someone to retrieve him, and you’re the closest.”

Jason sighed. This wasn’t going to be fun. “Send me coords.”

Oracle rattled off a set of coordinates for a nearby warehouse on a dock. Of course. Because all the villains liked to hang out in warehouses. Someone should just fucking burn them all already. That would fix like eighty percent of the crime in Gotham. Actually, never mind. Criminals were like cockroaches. Just ‘cause you chased them out of one place doesn’t mean they won’t show up somewhere else. The only way to rid yourself completely is to step on them or burn the house to the ground.

Batman though would disagree. He believes you can stick them in a jail cell with bars wide enough to slip through and that they’ll just stay here like the good little pests they are. Yeah right.

Jason shook away the thought. Not the time. He could contemplate the flaws in Batman’s philosophy later. Right now, he had a Robin to save. “I’m on my way. ETA, seven minutes.”

Jason pulled himself back over the side of the building where he had been sitting and pushed himself to his feet. He took one last drag of the cigarette before dropping it and crushing it with the heel of one of his combat boots. He then walked back to the ledge and grabbed his helmet from where he had left it. He snapped it back into place before stepping out onto air.

The wind whipped through his clothing as he free-fell before he shot his grapple in a smooth motion and halted his descent. Jason clicked a button retracting his grapple before going to his cycle he had left hidden in a nearby alley.

* * *

Jason arrived at the warehouse a minute early. He had known that the drive would only take a few minutes, but he had learned the hard way that when it came to Bats, it was better to overestimate his ETA rather than under.

Six minutes later, he found himself fighting over a dozen tuxedo-wearing henchmen right alongside his so-called younger brother. At the beginning, things were going pretty well. Punch a guy, shoot a knee, rinse, repeat. But of course, as with most times Jason dealt with the Bats, things took a turn somewhere along the way.

Jason still couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that he found himself pinned behind a pile of shipping crates with Robin while an especially trigger happy goon shot at them with a Tommy gun while cackling like a villain from an old TV show.

Jason flinched as a bullet came especially close to clipping his shoulder. He glanced over towards Robin to make sure the kid was alright, only to find himself on the receiving end of a death glare.

“So,” Jason yelled over the gunfire, “why’d you run off?”

No response. Not that Jason was expecting Damien to tell him all about his daddy issues. The day a Bat actually talked through their problems was the day pigs fly and Lex Luthor grows hair. In other words, never going to happen.

Damien opened his mouth to say something, probably cuss Jason out, but was cut off as the goon’s gun jammed. “Hold that thought,” Jason said sweetly as he pulled out his modified pistols. He quickly rolled out from behind the crate and aimed one of his pistols at the henchmen. He squeezed the trigger, sending a bullet into the man’s hand who dropped the gun with a curse. Before the man could react, Jason charged him, jumping up so that his knee met the man’s face, knocking him out with a squelch of blood and broken cartilage. As soon as he was sure the man was down, Jason turned towards his so-called younger brother. “You were saying?”

Robin sputtered like an angry cat for a moment before hissing, “I did not need your help, Hood.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. That’s why when I arrived you were about to meet the business end of a gun. Oh, wait. My bad. That was all part of your brilliant plan to dismember them forty different ways with a rusty spoon, am I right?”

Robin actually growled at him, like a fucking dog. And they called him rabid.

Jason was about to make another wiseass remark when a glint of metal caught his eye. He walked towards the object cautiously, tuning out Robin’s angry rant about him being inferior and how yes, he did have a plan, but Jason wrecked it, and yadda, yadda. Typical Bat shit.

Jason furrowed his brow. He started removing debris from the object as Robin finished his rant with a furious, “Do you hear me, Hood?”

“Yeah, Yeah,” Jason shot back as he brushed away bits of broken crate. “I was a mistake, I should have let you done your thing, I almost got you killed. Did I miss anything?”

Robin didn’t reply other than an indignant tut. Jason shoved off a final piece of wood fully revealing the object beneath. His eyes widened as he realized just what he was looking at.

“Oh shit! We’ve got a bomb!”

Jason barely gave Robin time to squeak out a confused “What?” before he scooped up the demon child under an arm and made a break for the door. Once Jason’s words finally registered, Robin started kicking frantically at Jason and trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Let go, Todd!” He yelled. “We must go back for the criminals.”

“Fuck that!” Jason snapped back without slowing down. “I’m not dying in an exploding warehouse again, and neither are you!”

Jason had barely got them clear of the warehouse when he felt an explosion of heat against his back. With a strangled yelp, he and Robin were flung to the ground by the shockwave like a couple of ragdolls. The two of them rolled across the concrete before coming to a stop several yards later.

“Fuck!” Jason spat, his ears ringing from the blast so loudly he could barely hear himself. He turned towards where Robin had been thrown. “You alive, pipsqueak?”

Jason couldn’t hear a reply over the roaring in his ears, but at least saw the small figure move, so they were both alive at least. The same couldn’t be said for the henchmen though. A painful glance over his shoulder confirmed that what remained of the warehouse was ablaze. Chances of someone surviving that was slim to none.

Jason was pulled out of his thoughts by a kick to his side. With a hiss, he looked up at the enraged preteen towering above him. Robin was yelling something at him, but Jason still couldn’t make out the words. Though, what he could glean from lipreading didn’t paint a good picture.

“… Dare you… Dead… Your fault. I was… Tell Father.”

With his rant done, Robin stormed off leaving Jason alone in the dirt next to the burning warehouse.

Great.

The fallout from this train wreck was going to be spectacular.

* * *

“I am disappointed in you Jason.”

Jason jerked towards the voice, a clean T-shirt halfway over his head. With an irritated groan, he finished pulling on the shirt before turning to face the music. “So, you’re just going to blame me without hearing my piece, huh Bruce? Favorites much?”

“This is not about favorites,” Bruce growled. Well, at least he didn’t try to deny it like usual. Hell, Replacement would even back Jason up on this: Bruce played favorites, and it was pretty obvious that Jason wasn’t one. “This is about you leaving over a dozen men in a warehouse to die.”

Ah. Right. Jason exhaled sharply and ran a hand over his face. “It’s not that simple. The bomb had a timer. I didn’t have enough time to try and defuse it or try to get everyone out. I made the best choice that I could under the circumstances.”

“There is always another choice.”

Jason snorted angrily. “Yeah? Well this time there wasn’t. I don’t know what the brat told you, but there was no other choice.” Jason shoved past Bruce and exited the small bathroom into the Cave. “It was either die trying to save a bunch of criminals or save Damien. And even if he is a little demon, I wasn’t about to let another child die a fiery death for you, Bruce.” 

“There is always another choice,” Bruce repeated firmly. He followed Jason towards the center of the Cave overlooking the glass cases.

Jason examined the cases, each one containing a different costume. He recognized most, but there were a couple he didn’t. The one thing he did notice was that everyone except him had a case. There wasn’t one for his Red Hood gear. Instead, off to the side away from the main display, stood a small case containing his torn Robin suit with the damned plaque.

Jason tried not to think too much about what that implied.

“I didn’t kill them,” Jason said finally. “I didn’t kill them. I followed your rules. Someone else planted the bomb.”

“But you didn’t try to save them,” Bruce growled.

Jason threw his arms in the air. “For fuck’s sake! I’m not having this conversation right now. I’d rather just enjoy the fact that I didn’t die in an exploding warehouse for the second time if you don’t mind.”

Bruce flinched at the words. Finally. The first fucking emotion he had shown throughout this whole fiasco. Jason was starting to wonder if he had been replaced with a robot. Too bad it was over a kid who had died years ago and not over the fact he had nearly died again. Actually, why wasn’t Bruce more upset that his blood kid had nearly bit it? Jason understood why Bruce wasn’t especially torn up about him, but shouldn’t Bruce be a little more worried about the brat?

Whatever. It wasn’t his problem.

Ignoring Bruce further, Jason started for the stairs leading towards the Manor. Since he was forced to deal with a bunch of bullshit, he at least deserved one of Alfred’s cookies for his effort. He stomped his way up the stairs, not caring that he was acting childish. At this point, he was well beyond caring what anyone here thought of him. No matter what he did, it wasn’t going to be good enough anyways, so why try at all?

He made a beeline directly for the main kitchen, trying to ignore everything around him as he went. A lot of his best memories were centered here, but the Manor was only for good little Bats, and Jason definitely was not one anymore.

In the kitchen, Jason was about to try and find the cookie jar when he noticed two fresh chocolate chip cookies sitting on a plate on the counter. He glanced around but didn’t see anyone else. With a soft grin he took the cookies and shouted a quick, “Thanks, Alfie!” before turning and leaving the kitchen with his prizes. He bit into one with a soft moan. Hell yes. Alfred’s cookies were the best!

He was headed for the garage where he had parked his motorcycle when he suddenly came face-to-face with an irate demon child.

“Todd,” The demon hissed.

“Demon,” Jason greeted coolly. He glanced up as two more figures came around the corner. Great. Jason put on a fake smile and said cheerfully, “Hey, the gang’s all here.”

Dick hesitated at Jason’s obvious distaste, while Tim took it in stride and even had the gall to look bored.

“Hey Little Wing,” Dick said cautiously as though he was talking to a wild animal ready to pounce. He planted a firm hand on Damien’s shoulder and tried to pull him away. “Come on, Dami. Let’s go finish that school project you’ve got.”

Damien rolled his shoulder viciously in a futile attempt to knock Dick’s hand off. “No,” He snapped. “It was Todd’s fault this happened. He is a criminal. Father should throw him in Arkham where he belongs.”

“Dami,” Dick warned lowly.

Jason shrugged. This wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. In fact, Jason was pretty sure this very point was brought up several times in the past day alone. “Arkham is for the insane, kid.”

“Then you would fit in perfectly,” Damien spat. “I have seen the pit at work, Todd. You may have control now, but you won’t forever. You should be locked up.”

Wow. Okay, ouch. Going right for his insecurities there. Jason quickly adjusted his body language to read casual to hide how much that stung. He wasn’t giving the brat any gratification. “Not today, Satan. Now if you don’t mind, I have places to be and things to do that don’t involve you.”

Jason pushed past them, making sure to elbow Dick as he went. He was almost down the hall when he heard Damien call out, “You don’t belong here, Todd.”

Jason froze.

“Damien!” Dick exclaimed, appalled. “That wasn’t nice! Apologize!”

Jason whirled around and cut in before Damien could comply. “I know it wasn’t nice, but is it true? Is that actually what you think?” Dick and Tim tensed, telling Jason all he needed to know. A pained laugh tore its way from his throat. “Well, at least now I know where I stand. I was getting sick of this whole, ‘You’re a part of the family, Jason’ bullshit. None of you ever act like it unless is suits you. Well, whatever. I’ll see you later.”

Jason turned and walked swiftly towards the garage where he put on his biking helmet and powered up his cycle. He was just about to leave when Dick came bursting from the door with a loud, “Jason, wait!”

Jason gave him the finger and tore out of the garage with a squeal of tires. Fuck them. He was so tired of this song and dance. Hope, betrayal, repeat. It was a never ending cycle of disappointment, and Jason was getting sick of it. If this was what family was, he wanted none of it.

Jason tried to push down the swell of emotions and just enjoy the feeling of the wind tearing through his hair, but he always came back to that point. Family. Was what he had really a family? When he was kid living with Willis and Catherine, he had thought that that was family. But then he went to live with Bruce at the Manor and suddenly it wasn't. Jason’s memories before his death were fuzzy, but he vaguely got the sense that something was different this time around.

Jason knew the rest of the Bats treated him differently. He saw the way they interacted when he wasn’t there. Hell, Bruce sometimes even acted like he was a good father! Just the other day, Bruce took Damien to the zoo and then took Tim and Dick out for lunch. Jason couldn’t remember the last time Bruce had done something with him that wasn’t work related. Even Tim and Dick treated him differently. They always acted like they were walking on eggshells around him, like he was timebomb ready to explode. It was obvious they didn’t trust him. And sure, he had tried to kill both of them at least once, but he had been certifiably insane at the time.

That seemed to be something they just couldn’t grasp. The pit had really done a number on Jason. Of course, it’s okay when Damien tried to kill them, or if someone else got whammied and tried to off them. But when Jason lost control, he was suddenly the devil incarnate. The double standards made his head spin.

This couldn’t be family. Jason felt like Catherine was closer to family than the Bats. At least then she had tried, and there were sober moments where she made it clear she cared for Jason. With the Bats, Jason never knew where he stood.

Maybe… maybe it was time to leave. This environment was obviously not good for Jason. He cared for the Bats, but he wasn’t sure they cared about him. Jason didn’t want to constantly be guessing. Being alone would be better than this.

As he rode, the thought firmly planted itself in his mind. As he played with the idea, a new resolve begun to grow.

Yeah. He wasn’t happy here. The Bats didn’t care for him. So why should he stay? By staying, all he was doing was making everyone suffer. He wasn’t happy, they weren’t happy. Time to move on.

But the idea of finding another city was daunting. There was a cape in nearly every city out there, and at least in Gotham, Jason had a fragile truce with the Bats. If he went somewhere else, there was no guarantee that a hero wouldn’t lock him in prison and throw away the key the moment he showed up.

Plus, the Bats had a hard time letting anything go. They would see him leaving as spitting in the face of justice or some crap and would try to track him down. The moment he tried to settle down somewhere, they would descend upon him like vultures and drag him back to Gotham kicking and screaming.

Never mind the fact that they didn’t actually want him.

He could try settling down in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. But they would eventually find him. As good as Jason was at forging paperwork, Oracle was better at sniffing it out.

That left Jason’s only option as to keep moving. If he were constantly on the move, the Bats could probably still track him down, but it would take a lot of time and effort. Two things that Gotham rarely allowed for them to have. If he jumped from place to place, there was a good chance that the others would just decide he wasn’t worth the hassle.

It wasn’t uncommon for Jason to go off the grid, so he could probably buy himself a few weeks before anyone even knew he was missing. And he had enough money from his drug lord days to last him a few years if he rationed.

Yeah. That could actually work.

Now the only question was, how should he do this? Should he just take his cycle and travel the country, staying in crappy motels and hotels? Or… Hmm. Not a bad idea.

By the time Jason reached his safehouse, he had the framework of a plan. He was going to do this. He was going to leave Gotham for good.


	2. Get The Hell Out of Dodge (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! Here we go!

“Just push the bar outwards, it’ll lock in place,” Mrs. Peterson ordered. Jason complied and pushed the metal bar in until he heard a click. “Great! Now to set up the second bed, just grab the half sitting on top and pull it over. Yes, like that. There. See? It’s not so hard.”

Jason grinned at the old woman. “Thanks. So, is takedown the same?”

“Pretty much, just in reverse.”

Jason looked around the camper van, making sure they had covered everything he was going to need to know. He glanced up at the popup roof and studied it for a moment. “Is the canvas new?”

Mrs. Peterson nodded. “Yup. Replaced it only a few years ago, back when I thought my daughter still wanted Dolly. Shame really. Her husband doesn’t appreciate camping so they both decided not to take her. I’m glad someone will get some use out of this old girl, though.”

Jason’s eyes fell onto the large wooden box right in front of the rear passenger door. Mrs. Peterson followed his gaze. “Ah, that. That was installed by my late husband to store our camp portable toilet. I recommend you get one. Some campgrounds don’t have very nice, or even working, facilities.” Mrs. Peterson winked. “Just a friendly warning.”

Not for the first time, Jason wondered what the hell he was thinking. He was a city boy, through and through. And yet here he was, buying a camper van from the eighties when the closest he had ever come to camping before was that one time he had gotten lost in a cornfield while visiting the Kent’s.

But Jason hadn’t managed to talk himself out of it in two weeks, so he doubted that would change now.

It had taken two weeks of meticulous research and planning before he was ready. There was a lot that Jason had to prepare before he could vanish.

The first thing he had to do was make sure that he was seen around Gotham for a while. If he disappeared right after a fight, the Bats would know something was up. While that was going on, Jason had to dust off one of his old aliases that the others didn’t know about and go camper shopping. Eventually, he had decided that his best bet was to buy a used camper since Barbara was less likely to sniff out a private transaction. Luckily, he had run across an ad in a newspaper from a couple towns over advertising a gently used camper van.

From there it was just a matter of setting things up so it looked like Jason had booked a flight for France to chase after a drug dealer and boom. Freedom. Several documents and one large cash payment later, Jackson Perry was the proud owner of a camper van and the Bats were none the wiser.

That was where Jason started having trouble. He didn’t have a plan beyond, “Get the fuck out of Gotham.” It would probably be wise to wait and actually come up with a something, but he was worried if he waited any longer that he was going to back out entirely.

“Do you have any more questions?” Mrs. Peterson asked kindly as Jason collapsed the popup.

“Nope,” He said, hopping out of the van. “I think that covers it.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “Though if you have any suggestions on places to go, I’m all ears. I’m trying to get ideas for my trip, but I’ve never done this before.”

“Hmm.” Mrs. Peterson tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Well that depends. Are you planning more along the lines of a road trip, or camping?”

“Long term road trip,” Jason admitted.

“Ever been to the mountains? Colorado is wonderful this time of year. If you are planning to be on the road for a long time, I recommend that you visit the more temperate regions now, then travel through the warmer climates when winter sets in.”

That… actually made a lot of sense. According the Mrs. Peterson, her husband had installed a propane heater in the camper van, but that didn’t mean he wanted to test out his mettle against Mother Nature if he could avoid it.

“Since you’re new at this, might I make another recommendation?” Mrs. Peterson inquired politely.

“Please,” Jason replied, ecstatic to get any sort of advice.

“I don’t know what your finances look like, but you can save quite a bit by boondocking.”

“Boondocking?” Jason echoed, bemused.

“Yup. Boondocking,” Mrs. Peterson declared. “Boondocking is basically when you go off the grid. My husband and I would often park somewhere for a night with no reservations. There are a lot of free locations to do it if you know where to look. We would often stay in truck stops and parking lots. If you call ahead and ask, businesses are usually more than willing to let you stay overnight. There are also a lot of free campgrounds if you’d prefer that. Not to mention, as long as there are no signs stating otherwise, anywhere in a national forest is free game.”

Jason blinked. That was new information. “Thanks, that’s great advice.”

“Well, I won’t hold you hostage any further.” Mrs. Peterson grabbed a lanyard with a pair of keys jingling on it from around her neck and held them out to Jason. “Now you take good care of Dolly, you hear? And have fun. My time on the road were some of the best years of my life.”

Jason nodded as he gently took the keys from her outstretched hand. “I will. Thank you for everything.”

Jason slammed the back door shut before walking around to the driver’s side and hopping in. Something like nervousness fluttered through him as he placed the keys into the ignition and started the engine with a soft roar.

This was it. He was really doing this. He was finally going to escape.

Jason shifted the van into gear before carefully pulling out of the suburban home’s driveway. He glanced back through the rearview mirror and saw Mrs. Peterson give him one final wave before going back into her home.

The van drove much differently than Jason was used to. He was used to motorcycles and, on rare occasions, the Batmobile. This was a bit harder. The van didn’t respond to his promptings as quick as he was used to and the dimensions were much larger than the sleek machines he usually drove. All in all, he figured that it wasn’t bad for a van from the eighties, though. After several near misses and a few birds flipped, he was finally starting to get the hang of driving the beast.

Jason still didn’t have a game plan, but he figured stopping at a big box store to get supplies was as good of place as any to get started. He had only brought what he could fit into a single duffle for portability and because packing his entire safehouse would set off the Bats’ alarm bells. Plus, Jason was fairly sure that most of the items he actually wanted to bring were tagged, and he was positive all of his electronics and weapons were laden with more trackers than he could ever find.

Bruce’s paranoia knew no bounds. Especially when it came to Jason.

So, the first thing on his list was to buy more than the one change of clothing he had packed and to get a new laptop and phone. A portable hotspot was also a must since he was going to be on the road a lot. Oh. And food. Buying food would probably be a good idea.

Parking the van turned out to be a much greater challenge than Jason had initially thought. After the eleventh failed attempt at a spot near the front, he finally admitted defeat and did a pull-through at the very end of the row.

After the long trudge to the building, he grabbed a cart and started his shopping spree. Jason had no doubt this one was going to put a dent in his wallet. Besides the fact that he didn’t have any camping gear, he also had forgotten most of his necessities at his safehouse. It was a really bad habit of his, packing the night before a trip on three hours of sleep without a list. Jason was pretty sure that he’d even forgotten his toothbrush.

He made his way through the store, starting with the toiletries and working his way towards the grocery section. Once he reached the back of the store where the camping gear was, he paused, unsure of what to do.

One of the employees took pity on him and asked, “Do you need help finding something?”

“Uh, I’m actually not sure what I’m looking for.” Jason gestured to the aisles. “Ever been camping?”

Ten minutes later, his cart was filled to the brim with camp gear. Jason was really glad he had asked because he hadn’t even thought about half of it. Like fire starters. Apparently, campfires can be difficult to get going. Who knew? Certainly not Jason. Another thing he hadn’t really thought of was a cooler. Since the fridge in the camper van turned off during travel, he was going to need a way to keep his perishables from spoiling.

The last thing on his list was food. And as much as Jason hated to admit it, he wasn’t going to be able to eat as much fresh produce as he would’ve liked. The cooler and the van’s fridge were only so big, so perishables would have to be limited. That being said, he could always just buy enough to last him at each stop until he was ready to move to the next location. In the meantime, he was at least going to need to stock up on canned goods.

By the time he made it to checkout, his cart was overflowing. Thirty minutes later and four hundred dollars less, Jason was finally ready to hit the road. He still didn’t have electronics other than a prepay phone he had snagged, but he figured he could hit up a tech store at his next stop.

Armed with a state map, he looked over the different cities in the vicinity. Finding a promising one far enough away from Gotham to be comfortable, he jotted down the directions and started up the van, ready to make his first move as a free man.

* * *

Mrs. Peterson had been right. The first store Jason had called told him he could stay in their parking lot overnight. It just so happened that the place he had chosen was right next to an electronics retailer that hooked him up with a new laptop and portable Wi-Fi router. He was sure that his bank account was ready to cry, and after trying to get his new tech working, so was he. Usually, Jason would just get Barbara or Tim to set up his shit for this very reason. It might have took him half the night, but he had finally managed on his own.

With a frustrated groan Jason slammed his head onto the foldout table next to his finally connected laptop. He glanced over at the device in disgust. “You better be worth it, you piece of crap,” He hissed. He sat upright again and cracked his knuckles. “Alright, where to next?”

Colorado was as good of place as any to start. A quick search told him that it was at least a 28 hour drive, depending where he wanted to go. From there, he started narrowing down the different parks until he found one near the mountains that looked nice. Unfortunately, it would cost. Still, money wouldn’t be much of an issue for a while, so Jason decided to go ahead with it anyways.

He was a little leery that one of the amenities they offered was a bear-proof dumpster and started to wonder what his chances of actually running into a bear was. What do you even do then? Jason vaguely recalled hearing a story in history class about a guy who was chased up a tree by bears and hit their noses with sticks whenever they came up after him. He really hoped he wouldn’t have to do that.

The only way to make a reservation was to call ahead, but it was late and the park office was closed, so he figured he’d call tomorrow.

Jason yawned and stretched his arms before folding them behind his head. He really hoped he was making the right move here. It felt… wrong leaving like he did. Granted, it would probably take a few weeks _at least_ for them to even notice he was missing and then a few more after that to realize that he wasn’t actually in France. His bet was on them not figuring it out until the end of summer.

It wasn’t the Bats’ fault though. Jason knew it was him. It was obviously him. They got along just fine with each other. But then add Jason to the mix and suddenly it’s World War III. They didn’t want him, and he couldn’t blame them. He didn’t want himself either.

No. This was the right decision. He was just removing the poison, that’s all. It might be painful, but it had to be done, for everyone’s benefit.

Jason yawned again. Alright. Maybe it was time to sleep. Things had a way of looking a little better in the morning. He shut down the laptop and pushed the table to the side of the van. He then stood up and stretched a final time before folding the couch into a queen-sized bed like Mrs. Peterson had shown him.

He grabbed a cheap five-dollar blanket that he had purchased and clicked off the lantern he was using for light. The bed wasn’t overly comfortable, yet it was still better than some of Jason’s safehouses.

His last thought as he drifted off to sleep was, “How sad is that?”

* * *

He needed a GPS.

After once again exiting too soon because he couldn’t read his own handwriting, Jason decided that he needed a GPS. The thought alone gave him chills as paranoia ran rampant through his mind. Having any sort of device that could be tracked was a big no-no back in Gotham, but he reminded himself that he had left and that the chances of someone wanting to track him were slim. Right now, he was just an average, everyday law-abiding citizen. His forged identity was not compromised, the Bats didn’t know he was gone, he would be fine.

Besides, he already had an unsecured cellphone and laptop, what was one more security risk?

One stop and several frustrating hours later, he was back on the road, this time with a new black device attached to his windshield by a single suction cup that Jason prayed would hold. The GPS had several routes to choose from, and he eventually decided on the one that cut through Iowa and Nebraska. The GPS claimed that all the routes would take about the same amount of time, but this one looked like more of a straight shot, so Jason wasn’t buying it.

Besides, this way he could avoid a certain red-and-blue superhero who liked to visit Kansas and had super hearing. The odds of running into the boy scout where practically nonexistent, but Jason didn’t want to take any chances.

So, Iowa it was.

What even was in Iowa? Now that Jason thought about it, he had never been there before. Corn, probably. That seemed to be a common theme in those kinds of states.

Scrolling through the map, he saw that it was going to be at least a several days drive. If he booked it, he could be to the edge of Iowa by nightfall. The Quad Cities looked like as good of place as any to stop for the night.

Finally armed with an actual plan, Jason started up the van again with a satisfying roar. Damn. He was really starting to appreciate Dolly. As far as he was concerned, she was a work of art and his ticket to freedom. A van had never looked so beautiful to him.

“Alright,” Jason mused to himself as he shifted gears. “Let’s get the hell out of dodge.”


	3. Dog and Bat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look. Canon has decided to leave us. Everyone say, “Bye canon!”
> 
> Also, I hate to say it, but back-to-back updates will be exceedingly rare. Anyone who reads my others stories knows that I tend to post a lot in the beginning and then slowly taper off as things get going. That being said, I got another chapter done, so I figured I'd just go ahead and post it.

Jason had severely underestimated how exhausting a fourteen hour drive was going to be. By the time he saw cities lights in the distance, his legs were cramping, and he was ready to start banging his head against the steering wheel. Why the fuck had he thought this was a good idea? It wasn’t like he was in a rush to get anywhere. Thank god he had finally arrived.

As he approached the lights, he finally got a good view of his destination.

By Jason’s standards, the Quad Cities were small, not even reaching a third of the size of Gotham. Though, he supposed they were considered large for a Midwestern cities. It looked nice enough, or at least it was a lot nicer than Gotham. Not that that was much of an achievement.

It was pitch black out by the time he arrived, and Jason was exhausted. He debated finding somewhere open to eat before ultimately concluding that sleep sounded better. He could hit up a diner in the morning.

He drove around for a while before getting hopelessly lost. Eventually, he decided “fuck it” and just chose a random parking lot to stop in, figuring that if someone called the cops he’d just leave. Besides, this decidedly was _not_ the most illegal thing he had done this week alone.

Jason was just about asleep when he was yanked back to consciousness by police sirens blaring towards him. Fuck. Did someone call the fuzz already?

With a groan, Jason forced himself up and flicked on the lantern. With a yawn, he unlocked and opened the side van door and leaned out. A few blocks away, red and blue lights danced across the buildings before turning and heading in the opposite direction. Okay, so it wasn’t for him.

He was just about to close the door when he heard the familiar pop of a gun, followed by several more. Sounded like a shootout.

Yup. He wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

With a bone-weary groan, Jason shut the door and slipped a pair of jeans over his boxers before flinging the door open again and hopping out. Dinner it was.

He locked the van and started down the street, not overly concerned for Dolly. He pitied the asshole that tried to steal from him. The streets were mostly empty, other than the occasional pedestrian or car. The fact that anyone at all felt comfortable being out made Jason pause. In Gotham, only desperate people and dumbasses went out after dark. Here, people seemed a little less concerned, though that appeared to be unwarranted what with the sounds of a pistol echoing throughout the streets.

And Jason had thought Gothamites were fucking nuts.

He finally hit the main drag and noticed that a small 24 hour diner. That would do. A small bell chimed at his arrival and he made his way to the front desk. A few moments later, a tired looking waitress appeared out of the back room.

“Just you?” She asked.

“Just me,” Jason confirmed.

The waitress ushered him towards a booth before setting a menu in front of him. “Can I get you anything to drink right away?” She asked politely, exhaustion evident on her face. Jason could relate.

“Coffee,” He told her, because why not? It wasn’t like he was going to get any sleep anyways.

The waitress nodded before disappearing into the back again. He opened the menu and flipped through it a few times before closing it again and laying it back on the table. The waitress reappeared carrying a pot of coffee and a mug. She set them on the table with a short, “Are you ready to order?”

“Yeah,” Jason handed her the menu. “I’ll just get the Sunnyside Breakfast Platter, if you don’t mind, with sausage and the two slices of wheat toast.”

The waitress took out a notebook and scribbled a couple things down before stashing it in her apron again. “Coming right up.”

Jason poured himself a cup of coffee as she walked away. He took a sip, savoring the boiled asphalt flavor before downing the entire mug. He grabbed the refill pot and poured himself another cup of the barely-edible liquid.

As he took another sip from the mug, a weird feeling suddenly crept through Jason. This whole thing felt so… domestic. Usually by this time of night, he was gallivanting across rooftops with various Bat members yelling at him through the comms. And normally he would have raced after the sirens the moment he heard a shot fired. Yet here he was, just minding his own business and drinking cheap coffee at a diner. It was starting to feel surreal.

Another sign that he could have used sleep, but que sera sera. That was basically his motto at this point, traveling the country aimlessly. Whatever happens, happens. Go with the flow. Something along those lines.

Jason wondered how the others were doing. It had not even been two days, but he still wondered if they had noticed he was gone yet. Probably not. He tried not to be bitter about the fact that the one time Tim had gone missing they’d found him in under twenty-four hours. But Jason guessed that when it came to him, Batman would always be fashionably late.

A faint chatter had Jason finally noticing a TV mounted on the wall across the diner. Local news, he realized as a rerun story about a new park project was announced. Boring, but not like there was anything else to do while he waited for his food.

A few more fluff pieces ran as Jason tried to keep up reading the horribly inaccurate subtitles. The volume was much too low for him to make out anything more than a faint murmur. He was about to give up when a blond-haired woman flashed onto the screen accompanied by bold words proclaiming, “Wild Dog Kills City Official?”

Wait, were there wild dogs in Iowa? Fuck. Were there bears? Would Jason have to climb a tree? Did Iowa even have trees?

Yeah, he really needed sleep. Jason chugged another cup of coffee before turning his attention back to the screen.

“-killed. It is still unknown if Wild Dog was responsible for the attack, but the police gave a statement stating that they will not rest until the vigilante is stopped.”

Fucking hell. Iowa had a cape?

The waitress chose that moment to bring out the food. She grabbed a plate off a tray and set it in front of Jason.

“There’s a hero here?” Jason asked casually, fishing for information. He gestured towards the news story still on the screen.

The waitress glanced over and laughed humorlessly. “If you can even call him that. Wild Dog is pretty much known for running around like an animal killing everyone he deems a criminal, thus the name.” Sounds like Jason’s kind of guy. “There’s been an ongoing manhunt ever since one of the council members was shot. So far, Wild Dog is the lead suspect.”

“Oh?” Jason quirked an eyebrow. “How come?”

“He was seen entering and exiting the building. No one else was in the area, so naturally everyone thinks Wild Dog did it. And of course, he hasn’t come forward to defend himself, so that hasn’t help any.”

“Does he make it a habit to just kill random council members?” Jason interrogated. Why was this suddenly feeling so damn personal? It wasn’t any of his business if some random ‘hero’ was being accused of a crime.

The waitress shrugged. “I guess not. But it’s kind of hard for anyone to give you the benefit of the doubt when there is no way to hold you accountable for your actions and you are a known murderer.”

Jason had a hard time finding a counter for the point. He didn’t know Wild Dog. For all he knew, Wild Dog was just a criminal parading around as a hero. Up until five minutes ago, he hadn’t even known that the guy existed. Jason was anything but an authority on the matter.

Thankfully, the waitress didn’t engage him further and slipped off to the back room again. He wondered how he was even going to find her again to pay the check.

Shaking off the thought, he turned towards the food and dug in. It wasn’t half bad, but Jason was sure he could’ve done better. After clearing his plate, he slapped a fifty on the table and left.

He made his way back towards Dolly, sirens still reverberating throughout the now desolate streets. Guess people here did have some commonsense after all. Back at the van, he finally decided to give sleep another attempt. He had a long trip planned, after all, and while his sleep hygiene was shit, he supposed now was as good of time as any to try and fix that.

* * *

Jason jerked awake with the crack of a gun. Dammit. He fumbled for a moment with the blanket before throwing it off and flicking on his light. Another shot echoed through the night, this time much closer.

Jason opened one of the storage cubbies and removed the false back he had installed, revealing the small selection of weapons he had allowed himself to bring. After all, you can drag the vigilante out of Gotham, but you can’t drag Gotham out of the vigilante.

He selected one of his modified pistols and checked to make sure it was loaded before shoving it in his jean’s waistband at the small of his back, concealing it from sight. He opened the van door and peered into the inky darkness.

Sure, it might seem like a bad idea to leave the van under these circumstances, but Jason preferred to actually be able to see the threat rather than just hear it approaching. If someone came after him, he’d rather have a clear shot.

The night remained silent other than the blaring sirens racing through the streets. It sounded like they were getting louder again, but he still couldn’t see anything. Jason was about to turn and go back into the van when a small movement caught his eye. He squinted at it, finally making out a figure running through the shadows of the parking lot coming towards him.

Jason reached into his waistband, resting his hand on the gun. “I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you,” He called out loudly into the night. The figure froze near a dim streetlight, letting Jason get a good look.

Oookay. That was not what he had been expecting. The guy was dressed like a high school hockey player, complete with a goalie mask and jersey decorated with a hideous cartoon dog. Other than the cargo pants and combat boots, he looked like he could’ve just stepped off a rink. A civilian might have missed it, but Jason also noticed a shit-ton of body armor beneath the jersey and several concealed weapons.

The infamous Wild Dog, perhaps?

A police siren cut through the night, much closer than before. Jason and the stranger simultaneously turned towards the sound as the flashing of sirens danced across buildings.

In a heat of the moment, Jason made a highly questionable decision.

He whistled sharply, catching the maybe-vigilante’s attention before banging an open-palmed hand against the van a couple times. The other man cocked his head curiously. Jason simply retorted with his signature quirked eyebrow. That was all the invitation the other man needed.

The vigilante approached the van quickly, and after a moment of hesitation, got in. Jason slammed the door shut behind him before leaning against the door casually and pulling a cigarette out of his coat pocket. He lit the cigarette and inhaled a deep lungful of the toxic fumes. He exhaled slowly just as a police car whipped around the corner, lights blinding and sirens screaming.

They pulled into the parking lot and drove towards the camper van. Jason winced and squinted at the car as its headlights assaulted his eyes. The cops must’ve got a good look at Jason and realized he wasn’t who they were looking for, because they circled the lot before taking off in another direction.

Jason waited until the car was well out of sight before pushing himself off the van with a sigh of relief. He dropped the cigarette and ground it with the heel of his foot. “Alright bud, the coast is clear.” Nothing. “Bud?”

Jason jerked open the door of the van, revealing a very unconscious vigilante lying in a pool of his own blood.

“Well fuck me.”

* * *

Jason was just putting the finishing touches on the stitches for the bullet wound when his unintentional patient jerked awake. It took him all of two seconds to process that he didn’t know where he was and that there was a stranger looming above him before his reaction time kicked in.

Jason barely had enough time to throw up his arms to block the wild punch aimed for his face. “Fuck, man!” The man flailed wildly on the pullout bed, sending Jason toppling against the side of the van in a painful heap, rocking the whole vehicle. “Stop moving!” He barked angrily as righted himself and threw his weight onto the man, trying to force him to comply.

“Get off,” The man growled lowly, trying to twist free of Jason’s grasp.

“Hell no, dude!” Jason snapped back. “You’re getting blood all over my shit. Now stop. Moving.” The fight slowly drained out of the injured man, and he finally went slack under Jason. “If I let you go, are you going to punch me again?”

The man was silent for a moment before biting out a short, “No.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Jason warned. He released the man and sat back, wincing at a burst of heat on his back. “Motherfucker. I think you bruised my shoulder.” No response. “You’re a jerk, you know that?”

“Who are you?” The vigilante demanded.

“I’m the guy who saved your goddamn life, that’s who,” Jason snapped with a scowl. “And if we’re really going to get into it, then who the fuck are you?” The vigilante’s hand automatically went to his mask. “Don’t worry, I didn’t peek. Unlike some people, I’ve actually got manners.”

“Says the kid cussing like a sailor,” The man muttered. Jason shot him a glare. The man sat up with a pained groan. “I’m Wild Dog, and thanks for the patch job, but I think it’s time I leave.”

Jason snorted. “Sure. ‘Cause you’re just magically going to be able to walk off after I pulled a fucking bullet from your side. Yeah, no. I’m calling bullshit man.”

Wild Dog seemed to hesitate at that. Jason was right, the guy wouldn’t make it very far after losing so much blood. The same thing had happened to Jason a few occasions, but luckily, he had either had a safehouse nearby or someone who could pick his sorry ass up. It appeared that this guy had neither. Oh well. Time for another bad decision.

Jason sighed through his nose. “So, where to? I can drop you off.”

“Nowhere.”

“It really wouldn’t be much of a prob-”

“I don’t have anywhere,” Wild Dog spat angrily. The way he said it made Jason think that he wasn’t just saying it to protect his identity. Damn. If that wasn’t a familiar feeling.

“I just left a bad situation.” What the fuck? Why would he tell him that?

Wild Dog whirled to face him, his emotionless mask giving nothing away.

“My family was treating me like shit and there was nothing there for me, so I left,” Jason continued, the words leaving his mouth unconsciously before he could stop them. “I just hit the road a couple days ago. A year ago, I would have called myself a coward for leaving, but now I’m just too tired to care.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Wild Dog growled, interrupting Jason.

“Shut up, I’m getting there,” Jason hissed back. He took a deep breath, then continued before he could talk himself out of it. “My life has been shit for years. Actually, I can’t remember a time it wasn’t shit. Then I took a step back and realized why. I wasn’t living for myself. I never have. I’ve basically sacrificed my whole life to helping others, and you know what? It hasn’t made me happy. Instead, all I’ve done is burn myself out.”

Wild Dog shifted, grunting in pain as he clutched at the slowly oozing wound on his left flank. “What’s your point?”

“Maybe this isn’t worth it,” Jason said bluntly. He knew the chances of Wild Dog listening were slim to none, but goddamn it! Jason wished he had had someone to tell him this. Maybe then he wouldn’t have died. Maybe then things wouldn’t have gotten to the point where he felt his only option was to run. Being a vigilante had brought him nothing but pain, and Jason was tired of it. “You could come with me.”

Oh fuck. Why did he say that?

He couldn’t see Wild Dog’s face, but he could feel the incredulous look seeping through the mask. Jason felt the same way, but the more he thought about, the less bad the idea became. “I’m serious. All I’m doing is just driving around road trip style. You could come along, escape vigilante life for a while. Or hell! You might even find a city that actually wants you to protect it,” Jason said, gesturing towards the leaking wound.

Wild Dog chuckled darkly as he forced himself to unstable feet. “Alright kid, come back to Earth now. There’s no way I’d just up and leave.”

Jason shrugged. “I thought so too. But look at me now.” Seeing that Wild Dog was unconvinced, he added, “If you do decide to stay, just don’t become like me. The world is fucked up enough as is. Either way, I’ll be leaving for Colorado tomorrow morning at six sharp. You are more than welcome to join me.”

“Whatever kid,” Wild Dog said as he pulled his bloody jersey back on before yanking open the van door. “Sorry for bleeding all over your ‘shit’ and thanks for the save.”

“At least think about it.”

The vigilante didn’t reply as he hopped down from the van with a pained gasp before slamming the door shut, cutting him off from Jason’s sight.

Well. He tried.

Jason glanced down at his bed. At least he had had enough common sense to contain the worst of it on the blanket. Fuck. He was going to need a new blanket. Like most things, a problem for tomorrow, he supposed.

With a sigh, he got to work cleaning up the gory mess.

* * *

The next morning, as promised, Jason was packed and ready to go by six. It had taken him a good chunk of the night to clean up the biohazard left by his unruly guest, so he wasn’t nearly as well rested as he would’ve liked.

As he adjusted a side mirror that had gotten jostled in the chaos, he couldn’t help but feel a stab of disappointment at the no show by the older vigilante. It wasn’t like he had actually expected some random guy to drop his whole life and join Jason on his quest like a side character in a videogame, but the company would’ve been nice.

With a small sigh, he started up the van’s engine and took one last glance into the early-morning darkness. He startled for a moment before a wide grin slowly spread across his face. He rolled down his window and told the approaching figure, “Glad to have you aboard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I know Wild Dog is a character in the Arrowverse, so I would like to declare right now that this guy is not him. I haven’t watched Arrow other than clips, nor do I have plans to. What I have done though is read the (crappy) Wild Dog short series. So, this character is based more heavily off of the comics, even though I don’t have much experience with that either. I’m not going to apologize if I get the character wrong, I think we’ve firmly established that canon has no place here. I’ve just decided that I want to play with a few of the less mainstream characters. With that, until next time!


	4. Dog and Bat (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wassup my readers! Today I offer you another chapter. I actually had this one finished a while ago, but I decided to delay posting it since I don't know when the next time I'll actually have free time to write is.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Jason glanced at the blond-haired man hunched over in the passenger seat for the umpteenth time since they’d left that morning. He still couldn’t fucking believe that his little ~~breakdown~~ speech worked. If something like that had swayed this guy, his life must be shit.

Jason could relate.

The man caught Jason gawking. “What?” He demanded.

Jason cleared his throat uncomfortably. “So… It’s occurred to me that we’ve never actually introduced ourselves. I’m Jason. Jason Todd.” The man stared at Jason like he had grown a second head. “Dude, I’ve already seen your face. A name isn’t going to do much at this point. Besides, if we are going to be spending a lot of time together, we might as well know the basic information about each other needed for acceptable human interaction. Like a name.”

The man faltered for a moment before giving in and telling him, “Jack Wheeler. And if I find out you’ve been spreading my name around, I can and will find you. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

Jason raised his hands off the wheel for a second as a sign of surrender. “Trust _me_ , there is literally no one I could tell. That’s kind of the whole point of this trip.”

After that, they both settled into an awkward silence. Since it was mostly just freeway at this point, the mindlessness of driving allowed Jason to get lost in his thoughts.

What the fuck was he doing? He must’ve lost his mind. It was one thing to leave Gotham, but it’s another entirely to pick up a stray vigilante and cart them around. Just looking at Jack, Jason could tell he had military training. And judging by how he was moving earlier, the fresh bullet wound wasn’t the only thing bothering him. This guy’s definitely seen combat. That meant Jack probably had enough baggage to rival Jason’s own.

What would happen if the Bats found him now? This was exactly the kind of person that Bruce wanted him to avoid. The kind that wasn’t worried about getting his hands dirty and had seen far too much of the world to care. If Bruce thought he was forming his own Injustice League, he’d be much more inclined to throw Jason in Arkham once and for all. And Arkham was the last place Jason wanted to land. He still had nightmares about laughter and stark white walls from his last stint there. Sure, the place had a revolving door. But the damage done in the meantime was enough to drive anyone insane.

“You’re strangling the wheel, kid.”

“What?” Jason looked down at the steering wheel to find that he was indeed clutching it so hard his knuckles turned white. “Oh.” He loosened his grip, relieving some of the cramping that had started in his hands.

Silence once again fell onto the van. Jason tapped his fingers on the wheel as Jack resituated himself in the seat with a pinched face. It occurred to Jason that sitting in one position for so long with an injury was not very uncomfortable. He turned to look at the clock on the GPS.

“Want to stop for lunch?”

Jack peered over at Jason before closing his eyes and leaning his head against the passenger door’s window. “Sure, why not. There’s an exit coming up in about ten miles that looks promising.”

“Sounds good.” Jason was not surprised in the least that Jack was the type of person to constantly be aware of his surroundings. He was the exact same way, but Batman had taught him how to hide it better. Guess not everyone had the advantage of being trained by a ninja furry.

Jason cocked his head, staring at the other vigilante as another thought wormed its way into his mind. Jack opened an eye and muttered, “What?”

“I probably should have asked this before, but are you a serial killer?”

Jack snorted and closed his eye. “No. I have killed people though.”

“I wasn’t asking that,” Jason replied. “I was asking if you plan to kill me.”

“As long as you don’t try and kill me, we won’t have a problem.”

“What if I am a criminal? What if I kill a criminal?” Jason pushed. He wasn’t really sure why this was important. He was basically retired. Then again, secrets had a way of not remaining secret for long. It would probably be best to at least figure out if he was going to have to fight his new companion to the death at some point.

“Kid,” Jack said, pushing himself up to look at Jason. “I only kill those who are actively trying to harm others. I know what the media says, but I don’t run around killing indiscriminately. I don’t stop petty crimes, and I don’t condemn others for self-defense. As long as you aren’t trying to murder a civilian in cold blood, I couldn’t care less what you do.”

Jason hummed. That was good. As far as he knew, he’d never harmed a civilian, even when he was lost in the depths of insanity. He honestly wasn’t sure he could live with himself if he did.

“Who trained you?”

“What?” Crap. That question caught Jason by surprise.

“Who trained you?” Jack asked again as he stared right through Jason’s facade. “I’m not an idiot. Someone taught you how to sew up bullet wounds. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the weapons. You were asking those questions for a reason and you got your training from somewhere. So. Who trained you?”

Fuck. This guy was actually smart. Jason supposed he was so used to hanging around oblivious idiots (Roy) that he’d forgotten people other than the Bats could be shrewd too.

“One of the good guys,” Jason deflected with a small shrug. Jack seemed to accept that, or at least didn’t press the issue, and went back to leaning on the window.

It was only a half-lie, really. Batman had been his primary trainer, up until he died. After that, he’d had dozens of definitely not good guy trainers given to him by the League of Assassins. Still, Jason would prefer to say that Batman was the one that trained him. It made him feel less dirty.

“Exit kid.”

Oh fuck. Jason swerved sharply onto the offramp, the van’s tires nearly lifting from the momentum. With an alarmed shout, Jack grabbed onto the door handle and flinched as the van righted itself. Jason slammed the brakes, the van skidding to a halt a foot past the stop sign at the end of the exit. A semitruck flew past them on the perpendicular road, missing them by inches. For a moment they both just sat there, adrenaline screaming in their veins. Finally, Jack let out a shaky groan.

“I think I pulled my stitches.”

“Oops,” Jason said sheepishly.

Jack just glared. A shiver ran down Jason’s spine, but it was just the adrenaline. Obviously. Jason got into the other road, making a point to be extra careful. Jack still glared.

“Uh, sorry about that.” More glaring. “Come on man, I said I was sorry!”

“’Sorry’ won’t put the blood back in my body,” Jack said icily.

Jason pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant chain that he was fairly sure didn’t exist in New Jersey. “Oh look. We’re here.” He turned to examine Jack, who was now clutching the site of the injury firmly. “How bad is it?”

“I’ll live,” Jack said irritably. “But only if your driving doesn’t get us killed. What I want to know is how you even got your license.”

Jason shot him a shit-eating grin. “It’s forged.”

Before Jack could reply, he flung open the van door and hopped out. Jack struggled to follow, a look of pure fury and befuddlement on his face. Before he could rip into Jason, he darted away with a quick, “I’ll go get us a table,” leaving the infuriated man behind. He walked into the restaurant and up to the front desk where a bored-looking hostess waited. “Table for two,” He told her.

She nodded affirmation and grabbed two sets of menus and silverware. “Right this way, please.” Jason followed her to a semi-secluded table where she dropped the items. He sat down and grabbed a menu, opening it and skimming it over. “Your waitress will be with you shortly.”

Jason had just finished looking over the drink selection when a shadow fell over him. He looked up into the angry gaze of his travel companion. Jack sat down across from Jason, his gaze never leaving the younger man. As soon as he was seated, he tossed a look over his shoulder before turning back and hissing, “We are not done talking about this.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jason shot back. He pulled up the menu to hide his smirk. Jack clenched his jaw. “Hey now, you said you wouldn’t kill me.”

“I said I wouldn’t kill you if you didn’t try to kill me,” Jack corrected coldly. “The way you drive, I’m not convinced you aren’t actively trying to. And you had better be joking about the license.” Jason shrugged and pulled the menu up higher to hide his growing grin. “Stop laughing.”

Jason was saved from trying to answer when their waitress walked up. “Hi, my name is Jessica, I’ll be your waitress today. Is there anything I can get you to drink right away? We have Coke, iced tea, lemonade.”

“I’ll just have a water,” Jason told her.

“Water,” Jack grunted.

“Two waters coming right up,” The waitress said cheerfully. She turned and walked off.

The two of them watched her go. “She seemed nice,” Jason said conversationally.

“Don’t change the subject.”

* * *

Half an hour later, as they exited the restaurant, Jason stretched his arms above his head and breathed in deeply. Fuck yeah! The air out here smelled a lot better than Gotham. Then again, pretty much anywhere smelled better than Gotham. The barn at the Kent’s smelled better than Gotham.

Okay. Maybe not anywhere.

Jack pushed past Jason and opened the driver’s side door of the van. “Hey wait!” Jason sputtered as Jack pulled himself painfully into the seat.

“I’m driving,” Jack stated.

“Hell no! Dolly’s mine!” Jason protested.

“Dolly? You know what, never mind. At this rate, we won’t even survive long enough to make it to the next state. I’m driving.” Jack slammed the door shut and started adjusting the side mirrors.

“But your injured!” Jason tried, definitely _not_ sounding like a whining child.

“Kid, even with a hole in my gut, I’m still a better driver than you. Now shut up and get in the van.”

Jason complied, albeit sulkily. Fuck this. He wasn’t a bad driver. He had only ever crashed the Batmobile once, and that wasn’t his fault, really. That tree came out of nowhere. Literally! They had been fighting Poison Ivy at the time. It was entirely possible, nay, probable that the tree wasn’t there beforehand. Not that he could tell Jack that.

“So where to?” Jack asked, tapping the settings button on the GPS.

Jason shrugged, still brooding. “Not sure. I was going to try and make it in one shot again, but that was hell last time, so maybe not.”

Jack exhaled petulantly. “You mean you haven’t even planned this far ahead?”

“No?”

“Do you at least have a final destination?”

“Yeah,” Jason said defensively. “I already told you, Colorado. I made reservations at a park there. Supposedly they have bear-proof dumpsters.” Jason tapped his fingers on the dashboard, an idea coming to him. “We should test that out. Find a bear, show it a dumpster. How hard could it be?”

“You’ve got problems.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Don’t we all.”

And wasn’t that the truth. You didn’t dress up in your murderer’s hand-me-downs and run around killing criminals if you didn’t have problems. Same could be said for dressing up in hockey gear or as a tiny, winged mammal. It was a pretty safe bet that anyone who went out wearing colorful costumes to fight dangerous lunatics had problems. And if you didn’t have problems before, you definitely did after. Maybe heroes were just as mentally unstable as the criminals they fought.

“Let’s stop just before we reach Colorado,” Jason decided. That way, they’d only be a few hours from their destination. He didn’t want to try and force Jack to drive another seven hours. He knew from experience that gunshot wounds made travel painful.

Jack approved the choice with a small nod. “Fine. You look ahead on the GPS and find a city on the way to stop at.” Jason complied, scrolling down the GPS’s path as Jack steered the van towards the highway. After they were safely up to speed, he asked, “You got something yet?”

“Yeah,” Jason replied, stopping at a promising looking city. “There’s something just under four hours from our destination.”

“Well, plug it in,” Jack said impatiently.

“Bossy,” Jason muttered. He set the GPS and turned it to face Jack before settling back into his seat.

For a while, they drove in silence again, the only sound being the roar of the engine and the grating of tires on pavement. Boredom slowly creeped in on Jason. He wasn’t used to sitting still for so long and doing nothing. He really should have bought a book at the last gas station, but he had thought that he would be driving the whole ways. Hindsight is 20/20.

Ennui finally drove Jason to ask, “So, what branch of the military were you?”

Jack glanced over at Jason briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “What makes you think I was in the military?”

“You got your training from somewhere,” Jason sassed, throwing Jack’s own words from earlier back at him.

Jack was silent for a moment before he sighed heavily. “Marines,” He finally yielded.

Jason hummed. “No kidding. I once knew a guy who was in the Marines.”

Jack seemed interested by that information. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Jason shrugged. “I met him when I was a kid. He was one of my dad’s coworkers for a while. Haven’t seen him in years though. Wonder what ever happened to him.” Probably still fighting aliens doing the whole space cop thing. “I liked his friend from the Air Force better though. He was more fun. Is dark, brooding, and serious just how you Marine types are?”

Jack shook his head. “Try anyone who has seen combat.”

Another question answered, and he hadn’t even needed to ask. Still, that just brought up even more questions. Ones that Jason certainly would _not_ be asking. He knew what it was like to have someone picking at your scars, and if he could avoid it, he wouldn’t be doing that to anyone else.

Jason squirmed in his seat. He would rather be driving. Sure, it was mindless, but it was a different type of mindlessness. With a frustrated huff, he turned and stared out the window. Hooray. More corn. Or at least Jason assumed the teeny plants that populated the fields were corn. But did that even make sense? He knew that the Midwestern states liked their corn, but how much could they even eat? It certainly didn’t call for the magnitude that he saw. He should've asked Pa Kent when he'd had the chance.

Oh well. For now it would remain one of the great mysteries of life.

* * *

They stopped for the night in a hotel parking lot. It seemed like as good of place as any, and surprisingly, the manager didn’t mind.

Jack set up the pullout bed as Jason raised the popup. “I’ll take the upper bed,” Jason decided as he assembled it. The last thing he wanted was for the other man to have to try and crawl into it.

“You even going to fit?” Jack asked doubtfully.

“Not comfortably,” Jason admitted. “But I’ll make it work.” He unzipped the canvas to let the night air into the musty upper bed. He glanced down at the duffle bag sitting by the van door. “You can pick one of the empty cabinets by the fridge to stash your shit if you want.”

Jack nodded silently as he unzipped his duffel and started emptying the contents onto the bed. Jason jumped down. He stared at a familiar white hockey mask sitting atop a small pile of clothes.

“You brought your Wild Dog gear? Why?”

“Probably for the same reason you have a gun, kid,” Jack said casually as he pulled out an odd pair of looking gloves. He opened the cabinets until he found an empty one where he started packing his things into.

“Point,” Jason conceded. He rolled his shoulders, trying to work the stiffness from sitting for so long out of them. “Hey, before we leave town, let’s stop at a grocery store. I only bought enough food for me, and I’d rather not eat canned shit for a week.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jack fell onto the now empty pullout bed with a muffled groan. “I’m going to bed, so whatever you do, just keep the noise down.”

“Old man,” Jason teased. He grabbed his laptop from the counter and placed into onto the top bed before pulling himself up with some effort. As soon as he was up, he exhaled sharply. “Damn. That was harder than I’d thought it’d be.”

“Not so spry, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Jason switched on the laptop, the light illuminating the otherwise dark van. Crap. The battery was almost dead, and he couldn’t charge it since the van wasn’t currently hooked up to power. Fuck. Made him wish he'd had enough foresight to buy one of those portable power stations. Well, just add it to the growing list of nuances associated with living life on the run.

He had least had enough battery life for ten minutes or so if he turned on battery saver mode. That was enough time to make a couple quick searches. Jason knew that he really should be looking for another destination as he had only booked the campsite for a week, but morbid curiosity got the better of him and he typed “Bruce Wayne” into the search bar.

The first few hits were entertainment ‘news’ sites that loudly announced Bruce Wayne was on a vacation to the Bahamas. Jason clicked into one of the sites and was immediately assaulted by dozens of bright popup ads advertising everything from makeup to weight loss pills. The site knew its audience, at least. He closed out of the ads and skimmed through the article.

Well, what do you know? It appeared that Bruce wasn’t the only one on vacation. Dick, Tim, and Damien had gone with him, according to the latest gossip. That meant that something hero related must have happened. The only time they had ever gone on a ‘family vacation’ was when there was something case related out of the country that called for everyone’s involvement.

At least, that was the only time Jason had been taken on one.

Good. If something big had gone down, it would keep them occupied and give Jason time to unwind. At least for a while, he wouldn’t have to keep looking over his shoulder.

“Dammit!” He whisper-yelled as the laptop screen suddenly flashed to darkness. Fucking battery. With a disgruntle breath, he closed the lid and shoved the offending device to the end of the bed. It would be fine. Out of necessity, Jason had learned not to be a wild sleeper.

Well, he had nothing better to do at the moment, so he may as well try and sleep. Tomorrow he would see if he could pick up some reading material at the grocery store. In the meantime, he could at least relax knowing the Bats didn’t care enough to hunt him down at the moment.


	5. Camping Take One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am not dead! Even if I feel like it.

“You know anything about starting fires?”

“What?”

Jack sat up from his place on the pullout bed and blinked groggily in Jason’s direction.

“Fires? You know, hot? Burns shit? Good for disposing of bodies?” Jason explained sarcastically. “I can’t get one going.”

“I know what fire is,” Jack growled tiredly. Not even two full days and he was already over Jason’s shit. New record. “Why do you need one?”

“Well,” Jason drawled. “I was going to get dinner started, and you were asleep _still_ , so I decided out of the goodness of my heart not to wake you by using the stove in the van and instead try my hand at cooking over an open fire.”

“So you woke me up to start the fire.”

“Yeah.”

Jack sighed heavily. He rubbed a hand over his face as he pushed himself to the edge of the pullout bed. “What makes you think I’d know anything about that?”

“Well, you were in the Marines,” Jason pointed out. Jack nodded. “And you live in Iowa.”

Jack snorted at the last one. “What does living in Iowa have to do with anything?” Jason shrugged. “Fine. Give me a minute. I’ll get your fire started.”

With confirmation his problem would soon be solved, Jason hopped out of the van and walked back towards the firepit. He stared in disgust at the pile of wood sitting in the center, very obviously not on fire.

They had arrived at the park earlier that morning. After they checked in to the campground, it had taken them a frustrating half-hour driving in circles to find their campsite and another half-hour to setup camp. Once that was done, Jack had announced that he was exhausted and disappeared into the van, leaving Jason to entertain himself. And since Jason had never been camping before, he honestly didn’t have a fucking clue what to do. At least here they had power so he could play around on the laptop.

Jack appeared next to him a moment later, absentmindedly rubbing at the bullet wound. “Aright, let’s see what we’ve got here.” He glanced at the haphazard pile of wood in the fire pit and the burnt fire starter perched atop the slightly scorched pile and sighed. “Yeah, no. That is not how you start a fire.” He bent down next to the pit with a grunt and started shifting around the pile of wood.

Jason peered over his shoulder as the older man tossed a few logs out of the pit and started sorting through the remaining ones.

Jack glanced around for a moment before telling Jason, “We need kindling. Do you have an ax?”

“Kindling? Yeah, I bought an ax.”

Jack grabbed a log and tossed it towards Jason. “Here,” He said wearily. “Chop this into small pieces.”

Jason grabbed up the log and brought it over by the van where he had stashed the ax and got to work. He wasn’t entirely sure how small to make to pieces, so he chopped the log into different sizes ranging from paper thin to thicker than his thumb. When he had finished the task, he brought the pieces back to Jack who sifted through the pile grabbing appropriately sized ones.

Jason watched closely, making note of which pieces Jack took and which he left and how he set up the wood in the fire ring. He was determined that he would learn how to do this himself. Being forced to rely on someone else gave him hives.

Jack seemed to know what Jason was doing because he explained what to do as he went. “There are different ways to arrange the wood, depending on what you want. I’m just going to go with the classic teepee build and we can go from there. First you stack three pieces of wood into a teepee shape, balancing them like this so they support each other. Then you can add more, and if it’s strong enough, you can use bigger logs. Next you put smaller pieces of kindling in the center. And finally, put the fire starter on top in the middle there and now you can light it up.”

Jack stood to his feet with a groan, brushing the dirt off his jeans. “That should do it. When you light the fire, make sure it doesn’t get smothered and blow gently on it until it catches. I’ve never been a great cook, so you’re on your own with that one.”

“Thanks,” Jason said. He meant it, too. It was honestly kind of embarrassing that he couldn’t get the fire started earlier. Show him some C4 and a warehouse and he could take that fucker down no problem. Show him a log and a match and he couldn’t make a fire to save his life, apparently. He hated showing weakness, but at least Jack wasn’t a jerk about it.

“You told me that this campground had actual bathrooms,” Jack said. Jason looked up from the cigarette lighter he was playing with. “Where are those?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jason turned back to the lighter. “You know that first one-way loop we went down the wrong way accidentally?” Jack grunted an affirmative. “It’s all the way over there.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jason shrugged. “I mean, there’s an outhouse not that far from here if you take a left and go three campsites down.” Jason dropped the lighter with a hiss and shook his slightly singed fingers. “Damn, that hurt like a bitch!”

Jack sighed. “Well, I’m going to make the trip to the actual toilet,” He said resignedly. “Don’t burn the campsite down while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” Jason shot back as he sucked on his burnt fingers. Jack gave him a look before leaving, heading off in the direction Jason had pointed at.

It took Jason several frustrating tries, but he did finally get a fire going. He sat back on the dirt, watching his small flame flicker rather proudly. He did that. He made that fire. Hell yeah!

Jack wandered back into the campsite not long after. He eyed the fire for a moment before nodding approvingly. “Not bad for a first attempt.”

“I know, right?” Jason chirped with a lopsided grin. “I’m awesome!”

“And humble too,” Jack said with an eyeroll.

“Damn straight!” Jason hauled himself to his feet with a grunt. “Alright,” He said, brushing off dirt. “I’ll see what I can do for dinner. I’ve never cooked over a campfire before, so this’ll be an interesting experience.”

Jack hummed. He eyed the small crackling fire lazily. “You got any camping chairs?”

“I have one,” Jason told him. “It’s in the back of the van in the cubby under the couch-bed. I only bought one ‘cause I wasn’t expecting company. We’ll have to pick up another at our next stop.”

“I’m using it,” Jack stated firmly, limping towards the camper van while rubbing gently at his side.

“Sure,” Jason agreed easily.

A few moments later, Jack came out of the van clutching a hot pink lawn chair. Neither one said anything as the older man set up the chair by the fire, on the opposite side from the direction the wind was blowing the smoke.

“Alright,” Jason finally announced, “Dinner.”

* * *

He burnt it. If Jason hadn’t known that the two lumps of charcoal were (theoretically) steaks, he wouldn’t have known what they were supposed to be.

Neither he nor Jack said anything as they picked off the pieces too hard to even be edible and ate the pieces not too crusty to be considered food. They had both eaten worse things after all. The beans had turned out okay. But after it had become apparent that Jason had no clue what he was doing, Jack had convinced him just to use the stove in the van.

After ‘dinner’, Jason and Jack just relaxed by the still smoldering flames, Jack in the lawn chair and Jason sitting cross legged in the dirt. They would both occasionally stand up and move to the opposite side of the fire whenever the wind decided to change directions, which was suspiciously frequent.

It was getting to the point where Jason was convinced that there was a meta hanging around blowing smoke into people’s faces just for the hell of it. Devious. Debatably worse than Joker.

…Wow. That was the first time Jason had thought of the Joker (may he burn in hell) this whole trip, and it was for a joke in his own mind. Sure, it had only been a couple of days, but considering the fucker killed Jason, it was unusual to go even this long without thinking about the bastard.

Why hadn’t he thought of leaving Gotham sooner?

No. He definitely had. Many times, in fact. Jason had just never gone through with it. Something always stopped him, like his perceived obligation to the Bats or Crime Alley. But it was nice, being free for a while. At least until the Bats got their shit together and decided he’d been gone long enough.

Jason wondered how they would collect him. Would Batman just show up one day at a campground in the Batmobile and demand that he return to Gotham? Damn. That would be pretty hilarious. The mental image was almost enough to make him cackle out loud like the maniac he probably was. Maybe he could get the fucking meta to blow smoke in Bruce’s face. That would make this whole thing worth it.

Yup. He was losing it. But ‘it’ implied he had had something in the first place. Hadn’t had that since the Pit. Whatever ‘that’ was. Probably was ‘it.’

The wind shifted directions, giving the two campers a face full of smoke.

Jack sighed as he closed his eyes and turned his face away. “Lovely.”

Jason scooted a few feet, just clearing the plume of smoke. It didn’t matter if he moved farther or not, eventually the meta would get him. Jack, however, remained stubbornly in place.

“Aren’t you going to move?” Jason asked finally.

“No point,” Jack stated blandly through a grimace.

“Life is pretty pointless,” Jason said knowingly. He glanced down at the slowly shrinking flames. “Should we let the fire die?” It was starting to get dark, and Jason didn’t really want to babysit the fire into the night.

“Please.”

A couple campsites down, a kid screamed gleefully, followed by laughing and yelling. Noisy camp neighbors. Jason was hoping that they wouldn’t be too loud late into the night; he was still trying to adjust his internal alarm clock and screaming kids wouldn’t help. He didn’t hold much hope though.

Still, it was pleasant to hear kids screaming in play rather than screaming in pain. A nice change of pace from what he was used to.

By the time the fire did finally die, there was barely enough light to see. As the last of the ember twinkled out, Jason stood to his feet and stretched, his shoulder popping painfully. “Alright. I’m headed to the bathroom.”

Jack pushed himself out of the pink chair. “I’ll go too. I’d rather not trip in the dark and have a broken leg to go along with the hole in my side.”

As the he two made their way down the dirt road towards the building housing the bathrooms, Jason couldn’t help but be struck by just how friendly everyone was. The family with the kids next door waved as they passed, people in other campsites would say hello, everyone was smiling. Was this an alternate reality? Had Jason unknowingly crossed dimensions?

He just couldn’t believe that Gotham was housed in the same country as somewhere this… blithe.

The more Jason thought about it, the more his head hurt.

Jack noticed his discomfort but didn’t say anything.

After a good ten minute walk, the two finally arrived at their destination. Jason dodged a pair of preteens on a sugar high who rushed past him on the narrow sidewalk, followed closely behind by an apologetic parent.

Pushing open the weathered wood door to the men’s bathroom, Jason was hit by a musty odor of infrequently cleaned bathroom. Still, he had smelled worse. Usually in Crime Alley where drunks wouldn’t think twice about using any flat surface as a urinal.

Naw, it wasn’t the smell that made him want to leave, it was the old guy singing in one of the shower stalls. Hell no.

Jason quickly did his business and turned to the sink to wash his hands and froze. He jumped back with a ~~shriek~~ manly yell. “Holy fucking shit! What the goddamn fucking hell is that?!”

Jack walked over a moment later and leaned over the ceramic bowl, peering in. “Looks like a spider.”

“Bullshit! No fucking way that demon bug is a spider. Look at how big it is!”

“Kid, that’s just a spider.”

“Fuck no!” Jason spat venomously. “We’re leaving. Pack up. Time to return to the city. I’m not doing this crap.”

“It’s just a spider,” Jack repeated with a tired sigh. He turned on the rusty faucet, washing the monstrosity down the drain. “Look, see, it’s gone.”

“What if it crawls back up the drain?”

Jack groaned, and instead of answering Jason, just turned to a different sink to wash his hands. Jason meanwhile stared warily at the now empty sink, as if the spider could leap out at him as soon as he got close enough.

“Just hurry up and wash your hands,” Jack finally told him. “If you’re so concerned, there are three other sinks you can use.”

“What if it attacks me when I’m not looking?” Jason hissed.

“It’s just a spider.”

“It wasn’t!” Jason protested. “That… _thing_ was the size of a damn puppy!”

“And now you are just exaggerating.”

“Fuck off.”

“You didn’t freak out earlier at the campfire when there was one sitting next to you,” Jack pointed out.

Jason’s blood ran cold. “ _What?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I lost the flash drive that this was on when the chapter was about half finished, and I just couldn't motivate myself to rewrite it. And just today, I finally found it, so I decided to finish the chapter and get this posted. I know, I know. Excuses. But hey, the past few months have been just awful. And it only gets worse from here...
> 
> ...Not going to think about it. Denial is not just a river in Egypt after all.


End file.
